


i think that's called a chick

by devilishMendicant



Series: koi's ddlc baby fics (aka the magical ballpit) [1]
Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Caregiver!Sayori, F/F, Little!Monika, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23783188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilishMendicant/pseuds/devilishMendicant
Summary: Monika and Sayori play games in a closet.
Relationships: Monika/Sayori (Doki Doki Literature Club!)
Series: koi's ddlc baby fics (aka the magical ballpit) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713370
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> it's quarantine and i feel like garbage all the time so i guess i'm publishing the bedtime stories i write for myself now! 
> 
> to the, like, one other person in this fandom who's actually interested in age play, because i'm sure they must exist somewhere: these are for you buddy

“So like, what, are we playing baby chicken? Is that what this is about now?”

Monika grumbles, the exact same way she has grumbled about basically everything Sayori has been sneaking to school in her backpack; which is fine by Sayori, because Monika is especially adorable flustered and grumbly, if she does say so herself. (And she says so.)

Today is probably the most embarrassing thing yet, by Monika’s measure. If she had been aware that dozing off on Sayori’s shoulder sucking on her own lower lip would lead to too many days after-club in the closet spent playing with baby toys and a horribly tantalizing pacifier Sayori had dangled in front of her face one afternoon, she might not have done it at all, and wouldn’t that be quite the shame?

“I didn’t think you would be chickening out over _this,”_ giggles Sayori, light and teasing and unbearably fond, waggling a _baby bottle_ (where did she _get_ a baby bottle?) in a manner too playful to be intimidating. “Wouldn’t it have made more sense to quit at the pacifier?”

“Maybe I should’ve,” mutters Monika, trying to sound both wry and annoyed and managing to hit neither.

“Should I be taking your nukkie back, then~?”

 _“No,”_ Monika says, quickly, reddening further but feeling slightly more settled when Sayori, as warm as ever, laughs softly again.

“Then come here, baby,” she coos, leaning gentle emphasis on the pet name (or maybe Monika just hears it that way), “Don’t you wanna at _least_ come have snuggles with me?”

She does. (She always does.)

So she pushes down the nervous tremor in her belly that’s always there, shaking like a fawn as she crawls, face red as a rose, she crawls towards Sayori and pushes her face into her neck, crawls into her lap. The closet door is latched shut and the school is empty and she crawls into Sayori’s waiting lap and lets her shakes bubble out as a whimper, a whine, lips pressing against Sayori’s skin not knowing whether to leave kisses or to suckle.

“Aw, baby,” Sayori whispers, pressing a sure and soft kiss to Monika’s temple as she whines again, curling clumsily against Sayori’s chest, “Sh-shh. You know it’s just me and you, sweetheart, it’s not scary.”

It _is_ a little scary, in Monika’s opinion, the same way that it’s a little scary to look down off a diving board even if you know how to swim, even if it’s hardly even that far above the water.

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

But it is a little less scary when there’s somebody there to catch you.

It’s a little strange, how Sayori _knows_ when Monika’s let herself jump for Sayori to catch her - sometimes she wonders if she _does_ something, carries herself differently, lets out a sigh that’s unmistakable for any other sigh, but today she’s just relieved that she doesn’t even have to try and ask before Sayori is pressing the nub of her nukkie to her mouth. If she felt any other way, she would have been mortified that she _wanted_ a pacifier, much less with a babyish _name,_ but she feels the way she thinks a basket of kittens might feel and she mewls accordingly once it’s safely in her mouth, rubbing her cheek lovingly and contentedly against the comforting run of Sayori’s sweater vest.

“Cutie,” Sayori croons, sweet as sugar and dropping feather-light kisses to Monika’s hair, rubbing her thumb along the gentle swell of Monika’s arm. “My cutie. You’re just the sweetest little baby there is, aren’t you? I must be the luckiest person in the whole wide world to hold such a sweet little baby,” she says, like she means every single word and Monika, like this, can believe she really really does, she _really_ does; Monika peers up at Sayori through her lashes, soft and small and for the shortest of moments _defenseless_ and Sayori melts like ice cream in July.

“I’d fight the whole world to take care of you,” Sayori murmurs, utterly awestruck, and Monika studies her face with loving, needy intent as Sayori brings the bottle up to her lips - only mildly distracted by the way Monika’s mouth absentmindedly opens, birdlike, as she gently tugs the ring of her pacifier to swap.

“There you go...”

Monika is lost in Sayori, in a good way - in a way akin to being lost in soft blankets on a bed ten sizes too big. Sayori’s expression is warm, soft, and Monika feels _safe_ now in a way that she hasn’t since the last time Sayori held her like this, and the last. She feels safe and she feels comfortable, maybe even _cozy,_ and she doesn’t want to think much of it when Sayori tugs her nukkie out and replaces it with the bottle, so she doesn’t. She suckles.

And it’s not warm (because it’s just milk from the vending machine at the end of the hall) but it’s sweet, and heavy in that way that milk is, and it’s _vanilla_ (which Monika is so utterly fond of) - eyes slipping shut and sighing happily through her nose, she suckles harder, more urgently, as her stomach growls lightly.

“It’s not going anywhere, silly,” Sayori hums, patting the side of Monika’s bottom in a confusingly soothing way, “You can take your time. Slowly, baby, slowly.”

So Monika, curled with Sayori in the clubroom’s closet, drinks slowly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise i accidentally wrote another one here it is

It just— it just _happened._

It just kind of accidentally _happened._

Frankly, Monika isn’t even sure where she got it - as far as she can remember, she’s never had any reason to use the word at _all,_ and then suddenly and petrifyingly it just falls out of her mouth one day like _that._

Mama.

_Mama._

She called Sayori _**Mama.**_

That was— this was a step too far, even further than secret baby toys and pacifiers and snuggles and occasional bottles of sugary milk. That was a game. This was a game, wasn’t it? A game Sayori suggested and Monika accepted; a sweet game, vaguely shameful game, a little scary game, a strange loving contented game that Sayori was _playing_ with her and that word—

That word is too _much._

She can’t put it back in her mouth, as much as she wishes she could, so she’s covering her face like a coward. Too much. That word is _too much_ for a game with your sweetheart. That word hadn’t left Monika’s mouth when she was a _real_ baby, with a technical actual mother, and now it’s gone and fallen out for Sayori, Sayori playing a silly lovey-dovey game and surely not expecting a word so _too much_ as that one.

Monika is quivering so much, curled on her side and hiding her face, that she doesn’t notice that Sayori had barely paused in surprise her gentle stroking of Monika’s head before she’d resumed again, as slow and sure as ever.

“Monika...”

Oh, it was _too much._ Sayori was— playing, playing with Monika. The rules of the game might have been a bit unclear and the goal of the game might seem mostly to be Sayori mooning lovingly over Monika, but it was a _game_ and this was—

“Monika-a...”

—surely a misstep, an error, a sort of faux pas, a damn oopsies. Monika squirms, feeling embarrassed and nervous and frankly miserable, since she had been having a very _nice_ time playing (relaxing drowsily under Sayori’s gentle hands, safe touches, mumbling nonsense back to Sayori as she cooed lovestricken over Monika’s fingers finding the nice little bumps on the ring of her nukkie) until Sayori had picked up the pacifier, when Monika had been all but dozing and the comfort item had slipped from her slackening mouth, and then Monika had roused very slightly and smacked her lips and yawned-sort-of-whined _”Mama,”_ and—

_“Baby,”_ Sayori murmurs, close enough to Monika’s ear to snap her away from her thoughts, “Are you hiding?”

Yes. Very much so. Monika shakes her head “no” anyway, because she feels little and embarrassed and confused and does not _want_ to admit that she’s hiding.

“Oh, really?”

Sayori’s voice _sounds_ pouty.

“Well, that’s very surprising, because I can’t find my baby’s little face _anywhere...”_

Monika squirms again, and Sayori sighs, shifting herself to rub soothing circles into the curve of Monika’s back.

“Are you _sure_ my little baby isn’t hiding from Mama?”

Monika’s heart stops for a minute.

“You see, I have her nukkie right here, and I’m _sure_ she’d like it back... but if her Mama can’t _see_ her, then it’s going to be so hard to know where to put it...” Sayori continues, cajoling, sure, and Monika peeks very, very slowly out from behind her warm little hands.

“... M,” she whispers, shakily, “M— M, Ma, Mama?”

“Yes, baby?” Sayori replies, even and gentle and eyes so very, very much in love, and Monika lets out a windy, whimpery sigh.

“M— _Mama,”_ she repeats, more sure and half-disbelieving that it— _isn’t_ too much, she— that this is okay? This, too, was a part of the game - this was a welcome offering, loving contribution, Monika’s part included _this?_

_“Baby,”_ Sayori says back to her again, smiling even warmer than when Monika, before, had been murmuring meaningless babble. Sayori wanted— _wanted_ her to say this, to be like this, to love her like this, too?

“Mama,”

_“Baby!”_

Sayori giggles, tracing affectionate circles on Monika’s cheeks, and gently - through great, quiet effort - a smile spreads slowly through Monika’s face.

_”Mama!”_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops,, another one (short one)
> 
> genuinely i enjoy reading/writing baby talk so sorry if you dont vibe w that much ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Do you need to be my baby?” Sayori asks, low and quiet and soft as silk, and Monika drops all the pieces of her thorny, tangled thoughts to the ground as she lets out a _sob,_ falling into Sayori’s waiting arms like they were shaped to fit her in them.

That’s a yes. _It **always** seems to be a yes,_ humphs the last holdout of Monika’s spiral, before Sayori kisses the sides of her face in the silliest _mommiest_ way and bounces her slightly, playfully, and Monika doesn’t quite - _forget_ \- but there’s something _else_ now, something else to think about, to focus on. Someone else to hold onto, to briskly brush away the shadowy bads and reveal the sticks holding them up, someone to _help_ as Monika’s focus turns from fearful outwards monitoring to looking inwards, to being here, to being _small._

She snuggles into Sayori’s shoulder, tears still leaking onto her face, but mostly now from relief.

“There’s my sweetie,” Sayori hums, holding Monika in such a _safe_ way, a hug so warm and tight that Monika is no longer a varsity athlete but a child lovingly supported. “What’s my lil’ sprout need, hm? Besides a nice, _big_ hug from Mama.”

Monika blinks, curling in closer to Sayori as her breath hitches on an errant tear. She needs to tell Sayori so much when she’s like this and at the same time nearly nothing at all; a few minutes ago she was nearly at a meltdown point over everything in the entire world but now, cradled by her Mama and looking at herself, just _herself,_ she does need and it’s suddenly so simple, a primary color, building block.

“Mm, amama,” she mumbles, finding her voice half-buried in Sayori’s skin, “Mama ‘m... I’m,”

Little breath, catching shirt on fingers, mooning in the detail, the small, the first baby step.

“‘mwan’ ju’se,” Monika sniffles. “‘n uppy ‘n Mama ‘n, ‘n chee-yios, p... p, p’yease.”

Which means, which she _realizes_ it means when she’s coming back up, that she hasn’t eaten or had a drink, she’s thirsty and her blood sugar is absolutely tanked and she’s isolated and needs to be touched and hugged and loved and needs Sayori to do it because she loves her girlfriend more than anyone else in the world, of course —

But she’s little, now, and all she needs to say are the little words, the easy ones. All she needs to think about are the simple things she needs, not the reason, not the justification, not the long explanations. She’s little and she wants juice and crunchy cereals she can num on with clumsy fingers, and she wants Mama to hold her and love her, and probably at the end of it all she’ll say she doesn’t, but secretly does, want a nap in a safe, quiet, little bed.

“Of _course,_ sweetheart,” Sayori murmurs, nuzzling into Monika’s hair in the careful gentle adoring way that makes her feel _treasured,_ “Of _course.”_

Monika is _little,_ and safe, and loved - and later when she is done playing, drink and snack and snuggles and naps all sated, the feeling will remain curled up warm inside her chest, beating a comforting reminder.

“T’a... ‘anku,” Monika whispers - and Sayori holds her closer still.

**Author's Note:**

> if you dont like it feel free to complain but im watching monster rancher so i promise i will not care


End file.
